


Soixante-Neuf

by doodle



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), M/M, PWP, Porn, Shamless porn, Sixty-nine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodle/pseuds/doodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless 69 PWP, established relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soixante-Neuf

**Author's Note:**

> Because this fandom needs _more_ 69 fic!

“John,” Sherlock growls, deep and needy as John sits back on his haunches. Sherlock’s dick is hard and spit-slick in front of him.

“John-,” Sherlock tries again, voice almost cracking as John looks up at him, taking in the sight before him.

All for him.

Sherlock is pale and naked and perfect, sitting on the edge of the bed, knees spread open and hard. “Up,” John instructs, voice rough from working Sherlock to a sweating, gasping wreck on the brink of orgasm before he pulled away.

“John, please-,” Sherlock says with thinly veiled frustration, elegant fingers clenching in John’s hair, trying to pull him back.

John grins up at Sherlock, slowly licking the taste of him of him from his lips. Sherlock’s eyes follow the movement, breath visibly catching in his throat as John stands.

“Move up the bed and lie down,” John instructs, with a teasing bite to Sherlock’s earlobe.

“Will I be permitted an orgasm or do you intend to continue teasing me?” Sherlock questions, but complies anyway.

John just laughs in response, pulling off the tie he’d been wearing for his evening shift at the surgery and tugging open the top button of his shirt.

“Well?” Sherlock demands, looking entirely debauched.  He's resting on his elbows, cheeks flushed and hair a mess.

John rolls his eyes as he kicks off his shoes, “When have you ever not had an orgasm when we have sex?”

“It could be the start of a troubling trend,” Sherlock replies with a sniff, offset by his smirk and right hand wandering downwards.

“No touching yourself,” John commands and finishes stripping, Sherlock will only obey for so long and John knows exactly what he wants.

He has been imagining what he’s going to do to Sherlock all day. Ever since that morning when Sherlock posed an innocuous question as to why a certain number could so thoroughly entertain some supposedly well educated UCL students.

“John,” Sherlock growls again in a warning tone that John ignores, but Sherlock does as he’s told and rests both hands on his stomach.

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” John says conversationally, smirking over his shoulder at Sherlock as he bends to collect his clothes. Folding them mainly just to torment Sherlock for the growling.

“One you should know well enough by now that I do not possess,” Sherlock retorts, sounding gloriously frustrated.

Just how John wants him.

He climbs onto the bed next to Sherlock and crawls up, biting at Sherlock’s jaw before stealing a kiss. It’s quick and dirty, all teeth and tongue and John pulls away before Sherlock can get a solid hold on him.

Catching his breath, Sherlock strokes his hand down John’s chest, destination clear as he asks, “Or is this an endeavour to teach me some?”

John laughs, pinning Sherlock to the bed at the shoulders. "Stay," John instructs as his own dick twitches in anticipation.

Sherlock raises his head, but does as he’s told. “Where are you going?”

“Trust me,” John assures, turning on the bed and pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s hipbone.

Then Sherlock’s brain, which usually fires somewhere around the speed of light, finally catches up with what John has been planning for at least five hours. “Oh,” Sherlock exclaims softly, shortly followed by a more desperate sounding, “ _Yes._ ”

John thinks he should get some kind of award for successfully rendering Sherlock speechless through something other than crime or sheer frustration at rampant stupidity. Instead, he positions himself so that his knees are on either side of Sherlock’s head and his elbows are bracketing those lean hips.

“Now then,” John says, lowering his head to nuzzle in the crease between thigh and groin and watching the way Sherlock’s legs tremble.

John _loves_ this.

Loves that he can do this to Sherlock. Break him down into sweaty, gasping, needy pieces only capable of saying _yes_ and _please_ and _John_. Strip away the calm, controlled veneer and what’s left underneath is only for him, like this.

“Do I need to explain how this works?” John asks, teasing Sherlock with slow breaths along his shaft, not making contact.

“I’m fairly certain I understand the mechanics,” Sherlock says, hands sliding up John’s thighs to his hips, curling around them to pull him down.

John has a moment to grin and then Sherlock’s mouth is hot and wet and perfect around him. Sherlock doesn’t waste any time, using his extremely talented tongue and mouth to make John’s arms and legs tremble.

John is torn between the desire to draw this out, to slow Sherlock down and made it last. But Sherlock is working John’s dick with all his skill and he can already feel the desperate need to come building in the base of his spine.

He’s kept Sherlock on the edge for too long, on his knees and teasing, and now there’s no stopping him. Not that John is sure he wants to as Sherlock hums around him, sending shivers of _oh fuck yes_ up and down his spine.

Heaving in a deep breath through his nose, John moves to a better angle and swallows Sherlock down. A trick he hasn’t tried in years, but it’s worth the effort for the incoherent gurgling sound that Sherlock makes in response.

Then Sherlock does something new and somewhat dangerous with his teeth along John’s shaft that’s so good it should be illegal. Or at least come with some sort of warning, and John is so turned on he can’t think any more beyond the need to come, to make Sherlock come.

Everything becomes desperate and frantic, licking and sucking until John’s clinging on the edge. As Sherlock comes, hot and bitter in John’s mouth, he lets go and comes hard.

Riding high on his orgasm John flops back onto the bed, heart pounding and gasping for breath. He’s certain he’s got come in his hair and even though he knows it’s going to be a right pain to wash out if he leaves it, he doesn’t care. He’s too wrecked with Sherlock, sex and a bloody fantastic sixty-nine.

“That was certainly one of your better ideas,” Sherlock announces, voice still breathy. John can just about see his chest still heaving out the corner of his eye. He’s at the wrong end of the bed and he needs to move if he wants to get under the duvet, which he knows he will once the sweat starts to cool on his skin.

“I should think so,” he replies, with a grin silly enough that he’s glad Sherlock can’t see and once again – accurately – accuse him of being completely sex addled.

“Get up here, will you,” Sherlock demands, nudging John in the shoulder with his toe. “I want a snog.”

John complies, but can’t stop the little groan of post sex lethargy that escapes as he collapses on his side next to Sherlock. “C’mere then,” he says, leaning in to meet Sherlock in the middle for a slow and lazy kiss.

“Did you know,” Sherlock says when they part, pulling the duvet over them both. “That the name of the sixty nine position was originally coined in the French, _soixante-neuf_ , in the _Whore’s Catechisms_ published in the 1790s? Though of course, it was practiced for centuries before that.”

John tries very hard not to roll his eyes at Sherlock, though he’s known for months now that even sex can’t stop Sherlock for long. At least the mutual orgasms take the edge off how irritating having a non-stop know-it-all for a partner can be.

“That’s nice,” John mumbles around a yawn and Sherlock snorts in his ear as he gathers John up to him.

“So is this,” Sherlock says, pressing a kiss to the top of John’s head. John means to say something, or at least make a noise of agreement, but is too busy falling asleep. 


End file.
